


this love is worth the fight

by blamefincham, thistidalwave



Series: Soulmark 'verse [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Breaking Up & Making Up, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamefincham/pseuds/blamefincham, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistidalwave/pseuds/thistidalwave
Summary: “Pats, we’re soulmates.” TK sounds exasperated. Nolan gets it; he doesn’t want to be like this either.He said that when Nolan called to break up with him, too. Nolan gives him the same response.“Marks fade, Travis.”
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Series: Soulmark 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771327
Comments: 16
Kudos: 200





	this love is worth the fight

**Author's Note:**

> It's been 5 years, to the day we're posting this fic, since we published our first cowritten fic, and so of course we celebrated by continuing to live the _Write the fic you wish to see in the world_ life. 
> 
> This is set in the same universe as "something good and right and real", where everyone has multiple soulmarks for relationships that are important to them (platonic or otherwise), but it can be read as a standalone.
> 
> Title from TSwift's "Afterglow" (long may she reign).

**September 2019**

TK has texted Nolan again.

Worse than that, he's asked Nolan to hang out again, which is just… 

Nolan can't. He can't play hockey. He can't practice with the team, because he can't skate. He can't turn on the lights in the apartment more than half the time. He can't even think thoughts, because he constantly feels like a giant is using his head as a football. He certainly can’t function like a normal human being.

So he really can't read another text about nothing from TK, and he definitely can't go out for coffee ( _or like w/e bro just wanna catch up doesnt have to be a big deal!!_ ) with TK like they didn't break up four months ago. Like Nolan didn't tell TK to stop. 

He thought he'd made it clear that they were over. That they _are_ over.

Now he's going to have to make that more clear. Somehow. The idea of it makes him feel nauseous. Or is that just his head? The giant squeezes Nolan’s head tighter, and Nolan closes his eyes, rubs over TK’s mark on his chest. He’s been doing that a lot lately, and part of him expects it to have faded or shrunk or started to move every time he looks in the mirror, but it’s as stubborn as TK himself.

He tries to string the words of a text together. _I can’t_ —

_I can’t because—_

_I can’t._

Maybe a nap first.

_I can come to u and we can just sit there in silence. Just wanna see u_

Nolan can’t string the words together to reply to that text, either. It doesn’t matter, anyway. TK has never sat in silence even once in his life.

Kevin lets TK in, because apparently he is not a bro, even though his stupid eagle mark on Nolan’s abs is so bright that clearly the universe thinks he should be. Nolan made a mistake when he moved in here. 

“Why don’t you answer any of my texts?” TK asks. He doesn’t even sound upset, just genuinely curious. That’s annoying.

“Migraines,” Nolan says. “Screens. You know.”

“Yeah, but—” TK sighs. “I know you read them. You could call me.”

“We broke up,” Nolan reminds him. He can’t look at him, so he looks at his laundry basket. It’s overflowing. He hadn’t noticed before.

“I know that, thanks, I was there.” He sounds annoyed now. Thank God. Nolan has had it up to here with his pity and his understanding and his help.

“So why are you here?”

“Just because we’re not boning anymore doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” TK says. “It doesn’t mean we’re not friends, that we can’t…” He trails off, sounding lost. 

“We can’t, though,” Nolan says. “I can’t. I actually, you know, meant it when I said I need space. I need you to… to stop. I told you already that this is… we’re over. You _know_ we’re over.”

TK shakes his head. “Pats, we’re soulmates.” He sounds exasperated. Nolan gets it; he doesn’t want to be like this either.

He said that when Nolan called to break up with him, too. Nolan gives him the same response.

“Marks fade, Travis.”

“Not this time,” TK says. “Not yours. Still as fucking massive and shiny and right over my heart as ever. And I’m not saying that to try and get back together, because I get that we’re over, okay, I fucking get it. But we have to play together, and I don’t get why we can’t be friends. And, like, if we can’t have that, then just tell me why, because I at least need some fucking closure or… something. Anything. You can’t tell me that you don’t… that you don’t still care.”

Nolan is too tired to lie to him, so he just shrugs and stares at TK until TK makes a frustrated noise and shakes his head.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll give you your fucking space.”

TK stands there, waiting, as if Nolan is going to respond.

When Nolan doesn’t, TK leaves.

TK stops texting. Not right away, because of course even after that conversation he kept trying, kept saying he just wanted to make sure Nolan wasn’t alone, that he knew TK would be there for him if he changed his mind.

But, eventually, he stops texting.

Nolan tells himself he’s relieved. Finally, some peace and quiet. More importantly, TK won’t have to deal with Nolan’s inability to stop being an asshole to him when he’s annoyed. TK doesn’t deserve the way Nolan treats him when all TK has ever wanted is to help Nolan.

The stag head on his chest that represents TK looks the same as ever, but Nolan’s given up on expecting anything else. He’s always going to love TK, but so what? TK should find someone better than a washed-up bust with an attitude problem. TK has tons of soulmarks, so it’ll be pretty easy for him.

It’s better this way.

—

**June 2019**

“So when are the doctors setting you free?” Travis says as soon as Nolan picks up the phone. He’s feeling cheerful, because Nolan actually answered, and even if he’s gonna be grouchy that’s never bothered Travis. That’s just _Nolan_. 

But instead of grumbling about how he’s not in jail, or calling Travis a moron, Nolan’s. Quiet. 

“Pats?” Travis prompts, wondering if there’s a connection issue, but then he hears Nolan inhale, so he shuts up.

“Dunno if I’m gonna be able to go to the cabin this summer, Teeks,” Nolan mumbles.

Travis takes a second. “Fuck,” he says, sympathetic. “Head’s too bad for travel? Well, I guess Michigan isn’t too bad in the summer, I could come to you.”

Nolan makes a weird little humming noise, but Travis is used to Nolan not, like, speaking in full human sentences or even words sometimes, so he keeps going. “We’ll just get you a big hat and really stupid shades, that oughta keep everything dark enough. Plus fishing’s better in the morning when it’s not so bright anyway—”

“TK,” Nolan interrupts, which in retrospect should have been the first sign. Nolan usually waits until he’s done talking to call him an idiot. “I don’t—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“The sunglasses? I promise I won’t send a pic to the group chat, pinky swear,” Travis teases. He pushes a hand through his hair and says, “Listen. I don’t care if we go fishing. I’ll go fishing and bring it home and make you clean it, or we’ll just be outside at night, or—fuck, whatever, Nol. Spending time together is the important part, eh?” He knows his tone is too soft, is expecting to get chirped for it, but whatever, it’s Nolan, Nolan’s always done this to him. He knows he likes it. 

“No, I.” Nolan swallows. He sounds like getting words out is as difficult as swallowing glass, but then, that’s not unusual for him. “I think. You should stay at the cabin, and I should stay here.”

Travis frowns, sits on the end of his bed. “You don’t want me to come?” He knows there’s some hurt seeping through in his voice but fuck it, he _is_ hurt. 

“I need some space,” Nolan says, quiet. It’s cliché and stupid and Travis _hates_ it. 

“Pats. We’re soulmates,” Travis implores, because that’s supposed to mean something. Damn it, he’s supposed to be able to _help_ Nolan, that’s why the universe put them together in the first place, because they’re good for each other. 

The other end of the phone is quiet for a long moment, and then Nolan says, “Marks fade, Travis,” in this awful fucking flat voice.

“Did yours?” Travis says, genuinely shocked. He tugs at the collar of his shirt to check his own, but no, it’s still huge and shiny right over his heart, like always. 

Nolan makes a noncommittal little mumble. Travis feels sick. He’s dated people whose marks were on his chest before, and those marks faded and moved, and Travis never felt like he was dying when that happened, but this…

“Are you breaking up with me?” Travis says, hoping that Nolan will say ‘No, of course not,’ but instead Nolan says “I just need some space.” 

And then he hangs up, because he’s a fucking coward. Travis calls him back, and he doesn’t answer. Not on the second or third or sixth call, either, and finally Travis gives up. He drives out to the lake with his phone in his glove box until he’s out of service range and can blame that for the radio silence. 

—

**November 2019**

When he and TK started dating, Nolan was sure they could be professional about it if they ever broke up. But it's been a month since the last time he talked to TK, and Nolan still dreads going to the rink.

He has to, because he has appointments and other mundane shit that he clings to because it’s all he can do to try and get through this. But it being necessary doesn’t help when he can hear the team practicing. It doesn’t help when he’s this close to the ice and yet stupidly, impossibly far from it.

He always times his arrival so he’ll miss the team so he doesn’t have to talk to them. And even if he did want to deal with them being sympathetic or trying to act like things are normal, he _really_ doesn’t want to see TK. 

He turns the corner into the locker room, head down, trying to pretend he’s somewhere else entirely, and runs straight into a wall that wasn’t there before.

The wall is TK.

Of course.

TK is tall and broad and familiar in his skates and pads and practice jersey, and Nolan’s surprised by how much he wants to keep standing right here, inches away from him, with TK’s hands on his upper arms steadying him. He takes two steps backward instead, and then another one for good measure.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

TK raises an eyebrow. “Uh huh. I’m sure you were counting on that,” he says. He holds up the helmet in his hand. “Forgot this.”

That’s so stupid and relentlessly _TK_ that Nolan snorts. 

“Shut up,” TK says.

Nolan expects him to keep going, to say something else to defend himself or change the subject or just generally fill the silence the way he always has. It’s weird when he doesn’t. It leaves Nolan off-balance, like he tried to take another step up the stairs only to realize there weren’t any more steps.

He wants to ask TK how he is, but he feels like he’s lost the right to know. He wants to say that he misses TK’s stupid texts about nothing, but it’s not like he didn’t mean it when he said he needed space. He did mean it, it just—it wasn’t what he was expecting it to be. It turns out he didn’t want space at all, and it’s left him at a loss, because what the fuck does he want, then? 

He can’t stop staring at TK. TK is staring back, his expression blank in a way Nolan can tell is intentional. Nolan wonders if his own face is betraying anything.

“I’m just… trainer,” Nolan says, gesturing at nothing.

TK nods. “Yep.” He walks past Nolan, patting him on the shoulder as he passes. “See ya. Or not. Whatever.”

Nolan hates it. It’s stupid that TK is fucking _patting him on the shoulder_ and clearly pretending not to care. _He’s_ been stupid, clearly, because obviously what he wants is to reach for TK’s hand, pull him back and hug him. It wouldn’t be fair, not after everything he did, but he wants it.

Because he fucking misses TK. 

He should probably do something about that.

Nolan stands in the hallway, staring at the space where TK was, his shoulder burning, for long enough that he’s late to his appointment.

—

**March 2019**

Nolan's been having headaches.

Well, that's what he says, but Travis is starting to get suspicious that he's doing something stupid like playing through a concussion, because he doesn't think he's had a headache bad enough to give him vertigo...well, basically ever. 

So Travis is already worried about him, because Nolan would rather chew off his own arm than talk about the shit he's going through at any given time in full sentences and not, like, angry grunts, and then Nolan takes a puck to the back of the head. 

He misses a game. If he didn't have a concussion before, he has one now, Travis is pretty sure. He keeps their room dark, keeps Nolan away from screens, does all the shit you're supposed to do, but it doesn't get better. It gets worse, which is not how concussions are supposed to work at all, and Travis has started anxiously googling 'brain tumor symptoms' in incognito windows, because if Google doesn’t save his search, it isn't real, right?

He's pretty sure Nolan doesn't have a brain tumor. Like, if he did, the team doctors would have caught it, they're good at their jobs. 

Right?

See, the thing is, when Travis is worried, he can’t stop thinking about whatever it is until he does something about it. And he sees some people online saying CBD can help with headaches and even brain cancer, and he’s not sure if that’s true, but it probably can’t hurt to try, so he orders some oil. 

“The hell is this?” Nolan says when it shows up.

“You put it on like, your neck and your temples. It’s supposed to help your head,” Travis says.

“Okay, but what _is_ it,” Nolan says, a little snappish.

“CBD oil,” Travis says. 

Nolan rolls his eyes. “That shit doesn’t work.”

“You don’t know that,” Travis counters. “Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t, but it’s not gonna hurt, is it?”

“Are you a fucking doctor now?” Nolan says. He sounds mean, in a way that’s different from his usual grumpiness, but Travis pushes down the wave of hurt he feels about it. Of course Nolan’s pissed off, he can’t play. Travis would be pissed off, too. 

“Will you just humor me?” he says, patient. Nolan glares at him, but he stomps off to the bathroom, and Travis notices that the little bottle has been opened when he goes in later.

It doesn’t help, at least not enough. Nolan keeps missing games. Travis keeps googling. 

Turns out there are a lot of things people on the internet swear work for bad headaches/possible brain cancer, and Travis is willing to try them all. They get just, like, so many Amazon boxes of essential oils and weird magnets and specific spices to put on food and Nolan...he does whatever Travis tells him to, but the longer he goes without playing the more moody and defensive he gets. Travis spends a lot of time in the shower taking deep breaths, just for, like, a break from it, because he can’t yell back. That wouldn’t be fair. 

The end of the season sneaks up on Travis. One day he’s about to add a crystal to his cart, and then he realizes that the shipping date is after locker cleanout. Fuck. “Maybe we should go on, like, a spa vacation before hitting the cabin,” he calls out to Nolan. “Mountain air is supposed to be good for you, right? Hot springs?” 

“You don’t wanna go to a hot spring in summer,” Nolan grumbles. “And I can’t go anywhere, anyway.”

“What?” Travis says, closing his laptop to frown at Nolan.

“I gotta go to a brain doctor in Michigan,” Nolan says, looking at the wall over Travis’s head. “Apparently it’s the best place for them to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me.” His voice is very even.

“Okay,” Travis says, matching Nolan’s tone. “And you were gonna tell me about that—when, when I went to get on a plane home and the seat next to me was empty?” His voice starts to shake a little. 

“Fuck,” Nolan says. “No, I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Yeah, well, it’s up now, eh?” Travis says. “How long are you gonna be there?” 

“Dunno,” Nolan grumbles. He slumps down onto the couch next to Travis. “Couple weeks, maybe. They gotta do some tests.” Nolan shifts closer, drops his head on Travis’s shoulder, tosses an arm around him, and adds, gruff, “I’ll come up to the cabin after. That’s better than spa shit anyway.”

“Fuckin’ right,” Travis agrees, relaxing a little and running a hand through Nolan’s hair. They’re okay. This is just Nolan being Nolan, and Travis might not know how to cure brain cancer, but he can handle Nolan.

—

**November 2019**

It takes Nolan over a week to figure out what to text TK that isn’t just _I miss you_. Unfortunately, he’s still not very good at the whole words thing, so what he actually sends is: _Wanna hang out?_

It’s good enough. TK will understand. Whether he’ll be forgiving enough to say yes… Nolan’s not as sure about that. He’s more likely to tell Nolan that it’s too little, too late.

He intends to do something else so he’s not just waiting for TK to respond. Instead, he lies on his bed, stares at the ceiling, and panics until his phone vibrates half an hour later. 

_Oh ok so NOW u want to be friends_ 🙄

Nolan’s heart sinks. He tries to tell himself it’s okay. He can’t expect TK to just get over being broken up with because Nolan realized it was… well, he’s not sure it was a mistake, exactly, but— 

His phone vibrates again. He bites his lip and stares at the ceiling for another moment to steel himself before looking at the screen. Instead of the follow-up _fuck you_ he was expecting, though, TK has texted: _Knew ud come around to my way of thinking. Still mad at u tho_

Nolan bites back a smile. He only gets as far as typing _okay_ before his phone starts ringing.

“What do you mean by _hang out_?” TK asks before Nolan can even get out a hello. “I mean, I’m not dumb, I know you miss me, because of course you do, you idiot, I miss you, too. But what kind of missing? Like, should I come over and make out with your face right now, or are you still not down with the whole…”

He trails off. Nolan waits, then sighs when it’s clear he’s not going to continue. “Teeks, I… I don’t know. I don’t really think anything’s, um, changed.” 

TK snorts. “A week ago you backed away from me like I’d killed your puppy and now you want to hang out, Pats. Something’s obviously changed.” 

“Yeah, well,” Nolan mutters, “you said it.”

“Did I?” TK says, obviously fake innocent. “What did I say?” 

Nolan rolls his eyes. “I miss you.”

“Damn straight you do,” TK says. “Still haven’t answered my question.” 

Nolan considers it. He does want to make out with TK, but he always has. More importantly, he doesn’t want TK to think he can just go back to the way things were, so… “I don’t think you should come over and make out.”

“That’s probably for the best,” TK replies without hesitation. “I really am still mad at you, and I feel like angry making out would lead to hate sex and while that sounds super hot, it’s probably not good for your head or, like, team unity. Maybe we should try just being buds again?”

Nolan kind of wishes TK had argued, but it’s for the best that he didn’t. Maybe just-a-friend-TK won’t be as overwhelming. Nolan isn’t sure, considering they were only ever _just_ friends for like a week, and Nolan was pretty overwhelmed in a different way at the time, but it’s worth a shot.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Buds sounds good.” 

“Okay,” TK says. “Let’s do it.” 

—

**July 2018**

Claude and Ryanne’s wedding is—well, it wouldn’t be Travis’s scene, but it’s perfect for them, all stylish and fancy and jaw-droppingly beautiful. He gets to go with Nolan, most of the rest of the team’s there, and the drinks are free, and that’s enough for Travis.

Nolan’s chatting with some of the guys, so Travis takes it upon himself to scour the appetizer selection and make them some plates. He even gets Nolan some of that weird artichoke dip he loves, even though it’s extremely disgusting, because Travis is the best boyfriend. Nolan gives him, just, the tiniest smile when Travis shoves the plate into his hand, and it’s super embarrassing how much Travis fucking lives for those. 

The seating arrangements at the reception have them across from each other, so there’s a lot of playing footsie under the table as they enjoy more and more glasses of champagne. Then they stumble out onto the dance floor, and Travis unbuttons yet another button on his dress shirt with one hand—he gets hot when he drinks, okay—and reaches for another glass of champagne with the other. He turns around to crow at Nolan about his feat of multitasking while inebriated and promptly steps on some girl’s foot.

Nolan laughs at him the whole time he’s apologizing. “We’re gonna have to get married wearing t-shirts in a barn, aren’t we,” Nolan says, laughing, “like, a literal barn. With all the animals.”

Travis was hot already, and now he feels all flustered by Nolan talking about them getting married like it’s an inevitability. How is he supposed to deal with that? How would anybody? “Fuck you,” he says, and it comes out more whiny than he intended.

Nolan, improbably, softens a little bit. “Nah, it’s okay,” he says, setting his hand on the small of Travis’s back, like he’s smooth or something. “You’re not, like, comfortable, in a place this fancy. Me either, really. We’ll have a cheap wedding and then blow all the money on a sweet honeymoon.”

Travis’s heart clenches. “Sounds perfect,” he says, a little raw, and then he covers it up quickly. “Like, marlin fishing in Australia, I’ve always wanted to do that. It’s so beautiful out there and those fish are fuckin’ incredible, you know? You go sailing, like, off one of the islands nobody even lives on, and the water is so clear you can see the fish the whole time you’re reeling ‘em in...” 

He looks up at Nolan, who probably can’t even hear him that well because the music is loud, but Nolan’s just nodding. Smiling a little, looking like he’s thinking about Travis’s stupid ideas, not like he’s waiting for him to stop talking already. Travis feels his heart in his throat again, and his mouth abruptly changes the subject without any input from his brain. “Y’know, when I was a shithead in high school I used to worry, like, that my soulmate was gonna fuckin’ hate—not me, but, how I’m a hick and I can’t ever shut up, and whatever.” 

Nolan looks a little taken aback, but he recovers quickly and pulls Travis in a little closer. “You _are_ a hick and you _can’t_ shut up, but I like you anyway,” he says, so fond it’s almost gentle. 

“Exactly,” Travis says, starting to grin. “You act like you hate it but you fucking _love_ it.” 

“I love _you_ , dumbass,” Nolan grumbles, trying to twist away from Travis, as if Travis is gonna let him get away with that. He’s starting to go red, the way he always does when he expresses a feeling. He’s so stupid, and Travis likes him so _much_. He fists a hand in the back of Nolan’s shirt, not caring at all if it wrinkles it.

“Love you too, dumbass,” Travis says as smugly as possible. 

—

**December 2019**

In retrospect, Nolan thinks, it was maybe too big an ask to start hanging out with TK again and _not_ make out at some point. 

It goes well for a while, to be fair. They spend an entire week acting like things are—well, not _normal_ , because there are always things they avoid, like talking about Nolan’s head or their relationship or kissing. It’s like being surrounded by landmines, but every time one of them nearly steps on one, the other pulls them out of the way. 

But, overall, it’s surprisingly easy. There’s no weird physical distance between them, because TK has never known the definition of personal space and Nolan isn’t going to push him away. There are no weird silences that last longer than the few seconds after nearly hitting one of the landmines, because TK doesn’t know how to shut up and Nolan likes just listening. There’s no weird vibe, and it feels like hanging out with any of his buds, except better, because TK has always been better.

It isn’t like TK says anything _different_ , either. They’re sitting on the couch watching 90 Day Fiancé, TK’s legs in Nolan’s lap and Nolan’s arm over TK’s shoulders, which is normal. TK is rambling about how this couple is definitely not going to work out, for sure, which is also normal. Nolan is only listening enough to say _mhm_ at the right intervals, preoccupied with thinking about how good TK looks in profile, which is about as normal as it gets.

And then TK says something about the fiancée lying about her soulmark, and Nolan kisses him instead of saying _mhm_.

He means to say _mhm._ Honestly.

He just forgets that kissing isn’t their normal anymore. 

In Nolan’s defence, TK is pretty enthusiastic about kissing him back. It gets heated quickly, both of them upping the ante like kissing is a competition, which has always been one of the most fun parts of making out with TK. TK gets his tongue involved. Nolan shoves his hands under TK’s shirt. TK climbs into Nolan’s lap. Nolan takes that as an invitation to put his hands on TK’s ass instead and is rewarded with TK making the _exact_ sound Nolan expects him to.

TK gets his hands in Nolan’s hair and tugs his head back to kiss him harder, and that’s about when Nolan’s brain catches up.

He isn’t supposed to be kissing TK, because TK said he was mad and wanted to be buds. Sure, he doesn’t seem mad now, but he never took it back, and they don’t talk about those things, and _shit_ , this was a landmine and Nolan dragged them both onto it.

Buds don’t make out in the middle of 90 Day Fiancé, so this definitely, _definitely_ has to stop.

Nolan pushes TK away, palms pressed flat against the front of TK’s shoulders. TK’s lips are red and his hair is sticking straight up because Nolan knocked his hat off when he first kissed him. That was a mistake, he tells himself. TK’s hat should have stayed on his head.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, should we,” TK says, breathless. It’s not a question.

Nolan shakes his head anyway, grateful. TK has always been good at verbalizing the things they’re both thinking.

TK climbs off Nolan’s lap and flops back down on the couch. _Now_ there’s a weird physical distance between them. They were probably overdue for that, Nolan thinks faintly.

“Because we’re just buds,” TK says after a moment.

It twists Nolan’s gut to hear it said aloud, but. He did this. TK doesn’t have to forgive him just because Nolan wants him to. “Mhm.”

TK studies him through narrowed eyes. “You gonna say anything other than _mhm_?” he asks, overly casual. 

Nolan shrugs. _Mhm_ is safe. When he’s saying _mhm_ , he’s not kissing TK and fucking shit up.

“Right, you’re just gonna let me say all the stupid shit,” TK says. “Sure. Okay.”

TK picks his hat up off the floor, puts it back on, and looks at the TV. Nolan should feel relieved that TK is dropping it, but instead he feels nauseous—and not, for once, in a migraine way.

—

**September 2017**

“Yo, TK!” Coots calls from the other side of the showers. Travis turns and Coots is beckoning him over.

“The fuck you got to show me in the showers?” Travis says, but he goes. He’s easy.

Coots is standing next to Patty, and Travis sincerely hopes this isn’t gonna turn into some hazing shit, he is worn the fuck out from training camp drills. Coots grabs Patty’s shoulders and turns him around and—the kid is blushing like crazy, but more importantly, that’s Travis’s big, hunter green stag, right over his heart. 

“Fuck,” Travis says, jaw dropping a little. “This yours, then, bud?” he says, tapping the big shiny fish on his own chest. “Popped up this summer after the draft, I figured it was gonna be one of the rookies.”

“Yeah,” Patty says, a little gruff. “It’s a Winnipeg goldeye.” He’s sort of staring at Travis’s chest, and Travis gets that. Seeing your mark that big on another person is...a lot. 

But he’s never been the type to just let awkwardness sit there. He tosses an arm around Patty’s back, because he can’t really reach his shoulder, and says, “Guess we’re gonna be buddies. Sushi on me after this? Let’s get that beautiful friendship started?” 

Patty twists away from him. “Real great buddy, sees my mark and wants to eat it,” Patty mutters, and Travis cracks up. 

They go to a decent sushi place not too far from the arena. Patty seems shockingly content to let Travis ramble. Travis even tests him, tells a truly rambling story about his parents’ neighbor’s cats, and Patty just nods through the whole thing.

It occurs to Travis that maybe Patty’s being polite or respectful or something because he’s a rookie and Travis is technically a vet. “You know, you can tell me to shut the fuck up,” Travis says, stealing a dragon roll off Patty’s plate.

“I don’t mind,” Patty says, shrugging. “It sounds like Cathy and her cats get up to some wild shit.”

Travis cracks up again. Patty’s _funny_. He doesn’t think he’s heard Patty say this many words all at once for the entirety of camp, so he hadn’t realized, but Travis feels like he gets now why whatever part of fate does the soulmarks picked Patty out for Travis. 

Why it picked him out for Patty is a different question, but whatever it is, it seems like Patty’s feeling it too. They linger at the sushi restaurant and then Travis says, “Wanna go play chel at my place?” and Patty says, “Yeah,” and the next thing they know it’s ten PM and Patty has no choice but to stay over if he wants to get enough sleep to not die at camp tomorrow. 

“I think this building has some apartments for rent,” Travis says, as he’s digging out the guest bed sheets. 

“Don’t jinx it, I don’t have my housing letter yet,” Patty mumbles.

Travis rolls his eyes, taps the mark on his chest. “You’re stayin’ here, bro.” 

—

**December 2019**

After the whole 90 Day Fiancé make out situation, TK is hit by some stupid Senators player and not allowed to go on a three-game road trip with the team. Nolan knows exactly how TK feels and would be happy—okay, not happy, but at least not totally useless for once—to commiserate, but his head hurts too much to do literally anything for the entire week.

He’s lying in bed, feeling better than he has in days, when he hears Hayesie get in. He considers going to make him shoot the shit about the road trip, but it’s late. He does the next best thing and picks up his phone to check the scores.

Except apparently TK has been texting him this whole time, even though he’s _concussed_ and should not have been texting at all, let alone about hockey games he shouldn’t have been watching. 

The last text reads: _Sry ik u love winnipeg but im gonna burn ur entire province to the ground_

Nolan scowls automatically. Then he checks the score. Motherfucking 7-3 loss to the _Jets_? Christ. 

_Stop looking at ur fucking phone screen_ , he texts TK.

_Fuck u_ , comes the near-immediate response. _Im fine. U gonna help me burn MB?_

_No._

_Cmon pats we gotta. Ferda_

_Just the arena_

_Atta boy. Fuck that barn_  
_Tho_  
_There was that one storage closet_  
_Rmr?_

Nolan does, in fact, remember that storage closet. He can feel his cheeks flushing just thinking about it. He wonders whether saying yes or no is more likely to make TK shut up, decides the answer is neither, and then texts back _Yes_ anyway.

_God we were so desperate_  
_You were so fuckin hot on ur knees for me_

Nolan bites his lip. He's already half-hard.

_Yeah_ , he texts.

_Stupid flushed cheeks_  
_Always gets me so good_  
_U just dragged me in there and shoved me against the wall_  
_God i love when u take charge_

_Was a sexy goal_ , Nolan texts, because it had been. He's always been desperate for TK, but dragging TK into a closet and sucking him off was reserved for very special occasions.

Or, you know, whenever he was really turned on, which he always is for TK.

_Love knowing my hockey turns u on_  
_Ur mouth is so good_  
_Im hard for u just thinking abt it_

Nolan can't resist shoving his pajama pants out of the way and sliding his hand into his boxers any longer. He screws his eyes shut as he strokes himself, overcome for a moment, and then forces them back open to text _Yeah_ with his other hand so that TK will keep going.

_So good for me_ , TK replies. Then, a second later, _Wait why are u encouraging this_

Nolan groans. _Dont stop now dumbass ur getting to the good part_

_UMMMMM_  
_We are BUDDIES?_

Nolan huffs and takes his hand off his dick. _Doesn't sound like ur having buddies thoughts to me dude_

_YOU said u wanted to be buddies!!!_

Nolan sighs again. He’s too turned on to deal with this. _I never thought I could just be buddies with u_

_Omg_  
_Oh my god_  
_I’M COMING OVER THERE_

Nolan texts back, _U shouldn’t drive w a concussion._ It goes unread, and he sighs, fixes his underwear and pants, and waits for his imminent demise.

He’s relieved when he opens the front door and TK stalks in, because he had far too much time to think about exactly how driving with a concussion could go badly. “You shouldn’t—” 

TK cuts him off. “ _You_ shouldn’t bottle up all your feelings and then finally say something of fucking note via text in the middle of the night! What the fuck, Nolan, I know you actually _do_ know how to use your words when you want to. I just thought you’d stopped caring enough to!”

Nolan stares at him. “Hayesie is sleeping,” he says. It may or may not be true, but he doesn’t know where the fuck else to start.

“Whatever,” TK says, but he drops his volume. He stares at Nolan expectantly. 

Nolan looks away from him. “Of course I didn’t stop caring.”

“Please, tell me what exactly is _of course_ about that, Pats,” TK says, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I mean…” Nolan stammers, “um… we’re soulmates?”

TK laughs, but it’s hollow. “You didn’t care about that when I said it,” he points out. Nolan cringes. “I thought maybe your mark had faded and I was just going to be alone and in love with you for the rest of my life, but… it didn’t fade, did it?” 

Nolan shakes his head. 

“So what the fuck, Nolan,” TK says, sounding defeated. “Just… talk to me.”

“Let’s sit,” Nolan suggests. He doesn’t wait for TK to answer before he goes and sits on the couch in the living room. After a moment, TK sits down next to him. Nolan stares at his feet instead of looking at him. He doesn’t want to do this, but he can’t stand the idea of letting TK think he doesn’t care any longer than he already has.

“I really did need space,” Nolan says. He looks up at TK. “It’s not like I lied about that.”

TK frowns. “I didn’t think you did,” he says slowly. “But… you didn’t really explain why, either.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

TK snorts. “Bang up job, Pats. I’m not a delicate flower, but when you crush our entire relationship in one go and then ignore me, it kind of hurts.” He rolls his eyes. “Just tell me what I did wrong.”

Nolan feels like a total asshole and wants to tell TK to get out and save himself all over again. But that’s not going to help. He has to actually _say_ something. “It wasn’t really _you_ ,” Nolan argues. “You were kinda driving me nuts when you were trying to...like, fix me, and when the doctors said there wasn’t even anything _they_ could do, not really, I just…” He grits his teeth. His throat hurts like maybe he's going to cry, and that's just. No. He forces himself to keep talking anyway. “I couldn’t do it anymore. But that’s my problem, not yours. You were just trying to help.”

TK looks stricken. “Yeah, I was trying to _help_ , not annoy you,” he says. “You could have just told me to fuck off. You do it all the time. I thought you would—I thought you were just acting pissed because you’re always like that. You’re kind of hard to read, you idiot, you know?” 

“Didn’t used to be,” Nolan mumbles. “Not to you.”

TK falls silent for a long moment. He shifts on the couch so he’s facing Nolan entirely. “Well… you didn’t used to avoid me, either, so. I think there’s a bigger problem here.”

Nolan nods. “Yeah, like this isn’t working,” he says, letting his vague hopes of figuring this out evaporate. He definitely feels like he’s going to cry now. “Which is what I thought when I broke up with you.”

“No, dumbass, like we’ve never had to deal with an actual big life problem before, and it turns out our soulmarks didn’t come with a fucking instruction manual.” He reaches for Nolan’s hand, and Nolan lets him take it. His heart flutters. “I shouldn’t have been so pushy. Or, at least, I should have checked to make sure you weren’t legitimately annoyed instead of normal annoyed. I’m sorry for that.”

He looks at Nolan expectantly. Nolan squeezes TK’s hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you,” he says. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to read my mind.”

“And you shouldn’t have been such a fucking martyr,” TK says. “We’re partners, your problems are my problems. You can tell me to fuck off if you want, but if you get that I just want to help, which you obviously do, then… fuckin’ let me help in a way that doesn’t drive you up the wall. You know?” 

“Yeah,” Nolan says. He feels stupid when TK says it like that. “Okay. I’m sorry for that, too.” 

TK nods and tugs Nolan closer. “C’mon, give me a hug.”

Nolan does. He wishes this entire conversation was as easy as burying his face in TK’s stupid ratty hoodie.

When TK pulls back a little some long minutes later, he’s got a tiny smirk on his face that Nolan knows means he’s about to get chirped. “Let me get this straight,” TK says slowly, “you broke up with me… knowing that you were still in love with me… and not thinking you were going to get over it?”

Nolan shrugs. TK raises his eyebrows, and Nolan sighs. “I thought _you’d_ get over it,” he says defensively. “I thought that would be easier for you than, I dunno, dealing with me.”

TK blinks. “Christ,” he mutters. “I can’t even chirp you for that. Do I not tell you I love you enough?”

Nolan opens his mouth to protest.

“Don’t answer that. Do you feel like you’re”—he lets go of Nolan to do air quotes—” _dealing with_ me? Like, when I don’t shut up, or I won’t leave you…” He trails off, clocking the raised eyebrows Nolan is giving him. “Fuck.” He puts his face in his hands.

Nolan takes pity on him even though he has absolutely no idea what he wants to say. “I, like, get what you’re trying to say, and like… no, I love you, too. But also, yes? Sometimes you’re annoying? But it doesn’t, uh, make me… um, love you less.”

TK looks up from his hands at the end of that. “So why would you having migraines and being a bitch about not being able to play hockey make me love _you_ less?” 

Nolan shrugs.

“It won’t,” TK says. “Especially not if you tell me when you have a problem with me instead of breaking up with me about it. That… it did some damage, dude, I’ll admit that.”

“I’m sorry,” Nolan says. He means it so much that it’s kind of making him nauseous all over again.

TK shakes his head. “Does that mean you’re willing to help me fix it? With your words?”

Nolan makes a face. TK looks so earnest and open, and it makes Nolan want to curl up in a ball and never voice another emotion in his life. But… if there’s anything the past few months have taught him, it’s that that’s not actually any easier.

“Fine, yes,” he says. “I’ll fix it. With words. And you.”

TK beams at him, which pretty much makes everything worth it. “So… we’re not just buddies now. Right?”

Nolan smiles back. “Right.”

“Fuckin’ right.” TK throws himself onto Nolan’s lap and kisses him, and it’s all Nolan can do to hang on and kiss back.

—

**August 2017**

The fish appeared on Travis’s chest, huge and shiny and stupid, right after the draft. It’s the biggest soulmark he has, and given the timing, he’s pretty sure it’s one of their new rookies. So sue him, he’s looking at them all a bit more closely than he otherwise would be. He can’t come right out and ask, that’s rude, but saying hi to all of them...That’s just being a good teammate, right? 

So he makes his way down their stalls, chats with them for a minute, welcomes them to the team. Doesn’t really feel any magic spark with any of them, but hey, that shit can take time. 

He steps over to the stall of the rookie with the biggest expectations, who’s tall and gangly and looks a little bit like a deer in the headlights. Travis smiles at him and sticks out his hand. “Hey, man. I’m Travis, everybody calls me TK.” 

Nolan Patrick shakes his hand and says, “Hey. Patty.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: [Lily](https://twitter.com/ungilded) wrote the TK parts & [Jenny](https://twitter.com/thistidalwave) wrote the Nolan parts. This pretty much sums us up as people. For proof, click our names to follow us on Twitter.


End file.
